


Help Me Find Myself

by findingnovember



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt Suicide, M/M, Violinist AU, sensitive content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findingnovember/pseuds/findingnovember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t have to exist.</p><p>The thought was comforting and even though he did want to cry, get on his knees and wail at the thought of not being wanted in the world, he didn’t. He showed no emotion to the thought of wanting to die. He simply didn’t care anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help Me Find Myself

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling down so I wrote this to sorta get my feelings out. Follow me on Tumblr (coffee-and-steve-rogers)!

A breeze gently kiss his tear stained cheeks as he stood under the hangar attached to the bridge he was on. Bucky looked down over the roaring river under him and let himself smile sadly. It made a weird feeling settle in his stomach that his life would end this way. On a bridge. He was always known for burning bridges with people rather than crossing them. This was just another way out he thought, permanently. He wouldn’t have to go everyday feeling like he’d never reach his full peak of happiness. He wouldn’t have to live with the constant thought of failure and disappointment, loss, in his life anymore. He didn’t have to deal with anything.

He didn’t have to exist.

The thought was comforting and even though he did want to cry, get on his knees and wail at the thought of not being wanted in the world, he didn’t. He showed no emotion to the thought of wanting to die. He simply didn’t care anymore.

Bucky bent down and fumbled with his sleek, mahogany violin case his mother got for him before she passed away. He undid the locks and opened it, pulling out his shiny, slim, oak carved violin. It was his proudest possession, he couldn’t imagine going on without it. He wanted to play it one last time before he went, to bring him some peace. He pulled the rousin out of a pocket in the case and ran it over the strings of his bow so his violin would play smoothly.

Satisfied, he placed the violin on his shoulder and held it there with his chin. He breathed in slow and exhaled, closing his eyes. He put his other hand up, as if addressing to a crowd he was about to play, counted back from five, then lay the bow down gently on the G string. He pulled and pushed the bow across the strings, emitting a hauntingly beautiful medley from the violin. He felt the music rush through him, giving him the exciting adrenaline he always felt when he played, and his whole body singed with pleasure and happiness. 

His movements were delicate and swift, his posture never breaking and his eyes never opening. He was gorgeous as he lived in the moment, obviously in another world. Any bystander looking at him would think that he loved himself as much as he loved playing with the confidence he showed, his chest puffed up, his chin up, and a smile on his face. 

The music caught Steve’s ear.

His late night walks have been consistent over the past few weeks, hoping to clear his mind of all the troubles he’s had over the past few months. He liked to go to the bridge at night because the river was an inspiration for his art. It helped calm his emotions, set them at bay and cleared his mind for room to just think about what really mattered. 

Now he heard the music at the other end of the bridge. It was eerie and absolutely beautiful. It made Steve want to just….sleep. He looked around and saw a figure, one that was tall and lean with long hair and a serious face. The figure wore a smile, a sad one, and it made Steve’s heart clench. He stood up, just staring for a long time and waited for him to finish. He kept listening though, letting the music wrap around inside of his head like a warm hug and just melted into the harmonies and rhythms. He wanted to cry, weep real wet tears because he’s never heard something so beautiful in his life.

He was sad when it ended, devastated, but now he could go talk to that person. He wanted to talk to him and get to know what emotion brought on such gorgeous playing, if he taught himself or if he had lessons, if he wrote that song or learned it from another. But he was putting his violin away in a case and setting it aside, pulling a note out of his pocket and placing it there. It baffled Steve for a minute then he realized what was going on. 

The man’s face was wet with tears yet he still smiled and something about that made Steve even more sad. The man looked down at the water and put his hands over the railing, stepping over to the otherside and holding on.

He’s going to kill himself, Steve thought.

He immediately sprung into action.

“Hey!” he called out and began to run over to him.

Bucky whipped his head back and let go for a minute, slipping on the metal of the bridge and falling. Suddenly in that moment, he didn’t want this at all. He was going to die because he slipped and he didn’t want it. The river was loud beneath him, a watery death, and Bucky screamed. He screamed as loud as he could and realized that there was a tight grip on his wrist. Someone had caught him and was holding onto him. He immediately grabbed onto the person’s arm and didn’t even knowing he was crying. He couldn’t hear anything over the loud water. His death.

He was being pulled up even though he felt like he would be swallowed by the river. Bucky knows the person was trying to talk to him.

“You have to grab the railing!” the person was yelling. “Grab the railing now!”

Bucky looked up and saw that the person, he, was on his stomach and almost completely under the last rail. He couldn’t stand and help him up because it would be too tight of a squeeze. He had to cooperate or he would die. 

“Please just grab the damn railing!” he yelled again and Bucky nodded, holding onto this man’s arm for dear life.

He managed to pull himself up, with the help of the man, and grabbed onto the railing as tight as he could.

“Good! Give me your other hand!” the man yelled over the rushing water. Bucky reached up and felt relief as his hand was grabbed. He held on as he was pulled up, assisting by pushing on the railing, then he was able to put his feet on the bridge. Slowly, he climbed over the rail, the bigger man helping him.

Bucky made it on the other side and collapsed, holding himself and letting out loud, wet sobs. He was weak for letting this happen. He was perfectly fine with dying and then, all of the sudden, the thought scared the shit out of him. He had no one left in his life that would’ve cared, he has nothing left, he hates himself...why did he not want to die? 

He felt large arms wrap around him and he froze a little, then relaxed because he didn’t even care anymore. He leaned into the warmth that was this man that helped him, saved him, and hugged him back, sobbing louder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” the man whispered, rocking him and petting his hair back. That shouldn’t have felt so good but it did and Bucky wanted it to last forever. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Just breathe for me, slowly. In and out. Take it deep.”

Bucky followed his advice, whining and shaking as he did it. Somehow, breathing deep and listening to his smooth, deep voice in his ear, helped him calm down and relax. He felt at peace because of a random stranger.

Then the stranger was pulling away and Bucky just let out a loud whimper, then he stopped pulling away and just hugged him again. He should be embarrassed, he doesn’t even know this man yet he was so attached already, hungry for affection and comfort from what felt like years of neglect and abandonment.

“Sorry,” the man apologized and rubbed his back. “You’re gonna be okay. What’s your name? You wanna tell me your name?”

Bucky sniffled and hugged himself closer to the man. “Bucky,” he croaked and clutched the man’s shirt. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Steve Rogers,” he replied softly and continued to sooth Bucky. “As difficult as these circumstances are, it’s good to meet you Bucky.”

Bucky didn’t know that in a few years, he would fall hopelessly, deeply in love with Steve Rogers and be able to look at someone without a fake smile, tell them truth when he tells them that yes, he is very happy.


End file.
